I feel as though I’m getting to know & love Charlie and his family through your generous & poetic reflections! Thank you for capturing his essence so beautifully through your eloquent writing. He would be (as I am) SO proud to call you “our daughter”. 🥰
I love seeing these photos with your words. You are so beautiful. I want to love Charlie’s family right back! For greeting you with such enthusiasm and love. You’re a missing piece of their long loved puzzle.
"inner barreling...." Oooooh. I love that expression. You'd think after 8 years of living with this I'd have exhausted all the metaphors and verbs and adjectives. But that one! So completely accurate, and only now, part of my embodied descriptive.
It's so profoundly humbling to be drawn into love and connection when you feel like your whole world is giving way. This chapter resonates with me so much. By the photos, one might never guess that something was so seriously going wrong for your health... I know this too.
I feel like the collision of your symptoms with the meeting of family, amplifies how foundational love and belonging is ❤️
Yes, you do know that one Micah... invisible challenges (which include mental health disorders) are uniquely difficult—on top of feeling the feelings, we also must navigate doubt, scrutiny, lack of diagnoses, and all the shame that comes from not being "seen." I'm so happy to hear this chapter resonated with you. Sometimes I worry that certain chapters are so personal that their universal themes are buried under details, so thank you for kind words. Here's to love and belonging. xo
Yes, invisible challenges are uniquely difficult, if not excruciating... What I love about your writing, and media, is how you're making the invisible, visible. And not just visible - felt, sensed, and full of creative juice. You make the invisible alive by making it personal. I write to my therapist between sessions, and I have often been inspired by your descriptive writing, and others' here, to make my own invisible struggles visible, and alive.
I just read something the other day on writing about "heroes" and how no one wants to read a redemption arc without the "messy middle"—the disquiet, the ache, the terror. My messy middle seems more like a messy beginning, middle and end, but nevertheless, it's encouraging to hear that it makes all the moments of magic feel more real. xo
How lovely that writing skills are inherent, maybe even innate.
“Charles Phillip Brauer”
1949–1985
The inscription on the bench is so beautifully written. I think Charlie would have approved.
I’ve sat on a few ‘in memory of’ benches . Not because I needed a rest at that moment. It’s more a feeling, to seat yourself and have a look around. A path to a stranger who was so loved in life, someone cared enough to mark a favorite view, or even a place of comfort deep in a forest.
Now that I think on it, rather than a tomb stone in an abandoned cemetery, I love the idea of a bench, or even just a boulder. In my absolutely favorite place. And if someone were to write something beautiful, well then…
I love the idea of a bench too! I've always leaned toward cremation, no longer wanting to "exist" when I don't "exist." :) But a symbolic place of reflection and rest, with a companioned view, now that's pretty sweet. I have a friend who would like her ashes to be spread under an apple tree.... similarly, a place to sit and bite into the ruby red cycle of life.
I'm always flawed and buoyed by these chapters. "He never reached land again. Will I?" That contemplation landed like a blow. I'm always reminded, when I read your work, of how flimsy our understanding of time really is. How it exists in spirals, and loops, and has multiple directionalities and layers.
Haha! I do too! Never felt more proud to be his daughter when I learned that little fact. I just wish someone had recorded it, or he'd written a poem about it afterwards. :)
Your reflection here is... well... as usual, stops me in my tracks. You picked out the most central line to this entire chapter, it encompasses everything—not just the strange parallel of our physical experience and my own desperate relationship to it, but the mysterious looping of time, how one life can cease to exist, but its patterns still lay themselves upon another, bending, spiraling, dizzying...
I can't comprehend what it's like for you to lay bare these thoughts and feelings, all so intimate and internal and raw, but I want you to know that this piece in particular is profound. Your writing is staggeringly moving, so intricate and poetic and graceful. I'm in awe, Kimberly. (I'm writing this part way through reading, because I simply had to stop to say this in case I couldn't capture what I was thinking as the words swirled from the page.)
Just when imposters syndrome is puffing up her feathers and asserting herself in my psyche, your words land, soften, encourage. Thank you thank you Nathan. I have much to learn but am beyond delighted to hear that the mess of me, somehow spirals into coherence.
I am trying to imagine how I would feel, I with little family left who care about my own small entourage, to suddenly be faced with so much love?
Would it even be possible to correlate that which has been missing for so long? I don’t know? Truly…
But somehow even with your world undulating so uncontrollably and inexplicably beneath you, unable to process the minutiae of emotional exchange, you arrange yourself, your heart in just the right way not only to accept their obvious love, their kind, open arms but you wrap all the gifts of new found family in your own arms with graceful elegance… once again I am in awe of this resilient, attentive you dear Kimberly…
The photo of you on Charlie’s memorial bench, the strain of the days with new family, your strength and the weight of emotion are not hidden, perhaps a moment too special for someone like me to even understand but the image speaks volumes nonetheless. 🤍x
I think you give me more credit than deserved. :) Or at least, little "me" or egoic "me." Maybe when life is all-too-overwhelming, we split into two, one part moves through the world, doing all the motions like a puppet, while another, more infinite and gossamer, pulls the strings, inviting surrender and grace. Hey, I like this idea!
Love you dear Susie. And love that spring is slowly returning for you on the petals of snowbells.
It’s so lovely when you etch into the cow hide. A beautiful moment of joining the family and connecting with your dad. Wonderful writing as always, Kimberly. :)
Your storytelling of this meeting is so very moving, Kimberly. I cannot imagine what this experience must have been like for you all—dizzying. And what pure expressions of love from and between every one of you. It’s extraordinary.
I am a living, breathing example of thought and emotion manifesting into matter. ;) We could argue chicken or egg, which came first, but in my case, I feel quite certain that the unsteadiness began with the dizzying collision of new information. Eventually, the reorganizing identity needed to find embodiment so integration could happen on all levels. Thank you for offering your presence here—you hold my story with great tenderness, like a stunned bird recovering from impact in your warm hands.
You are very much your father's daughter, Kimberly. This chapter was absolutely gorgeous (they all are!!!)
"in his own handwriting, scribed no less than thirty-five years ago. I touch it and try to wrinkle time—his hand and mine momentarily one." Lots of wet stuff in my eyes with that line. How wonderful to have Charlie's art and energy all around. Music, writing, photos, stories. Little gifts left behind for you to unwrap. The photos are such a wonderful addition. Thank you for sharing them with us. You and your family are gorgeous and radiate the most feel good energy.
Makes me think of something you wrote a while ago Jenovia as you pored through old boxes of photos, relics, treasured scraps of connection from your past. Objects hold vibrations and you're right, it has been such a gift to be able to surround myself with some of Charlie's vibration... through song, poetry, word, but also random bits of paper one wouldn't assign any meaning to, but for some reason, he held on. And now, I get to too. :) Thank you sister for your lasting and so very loving presence here.
There is so much tenderness in the way you capture moments and experiences, the love, the pain, the connection. I find myself savouring each line and phrases, both for your writing and your beautiful soul.
Awww Mya, I wish I could reach my arms through this screen right now and hug you. Thank you for savoring with me. I labor over each sentence, scrunching my eyes, feeling into my toes, trying to find the words that exactly describe what I'm trying to say. It's arduous but rewarding, especially when I hear it landing in beautiful soul's like you.
I feel as though I’m getting to know & love Charlie and his family through your generous & poetic reflections! Thank you for capturing his essence so beautifully through your eloquent writing. He would be (as I am) SO proud to call you “our daughter”. 🥰
Thank you momma. So glad you two found each other on that fated, summer solstice day. xo
Me too!!!! ❤️
This is such a beautiful comment to read.
I love seeing these photos with your words. You are so beautiful. I want to love Charlie’s family right back! For greeting you with such enthusiasm and love. You’re a missing piece of their long loved puzzle.
Thank you Kim!!!! I will tell them. ;)
So much bonding beauty amid all that inner barreling. The photos of you are exquisite.
"inner barreling...." Oooooh. I love that expression. You'd think after 8 years of living with this I'd have exhausted all the metaphors and verbs and adjectives. But that one! So completely accurate, and only now, part of my embodied descriptive.
It's so profoundly humbling to be drawn into love and connection when you feel like your whole world is giving way. This chapter resonates with me so much. By the photos, one might never guess that something was so seriously going wrong for your health... I know this too.
I feel like the collision of your symptoms with the meeting of family, amplifies how foundational love and belonging is ❤️
Yes, you do know that one Micah... invisible challenges (which include mental health disorders) are uniquely difficult—on top of feeling the feelings, we also must navigate doubt, scrutiny, lack of diagnoses, and all the shame that comes from not being "seen." I'm so happy to hear this chapter resonated with you. Sometimes I worry that certain chapters are so personal that their universal themes are buried under details, so thank you for kind words. Here's to love and belonging. xo
And yes, here's to love and belonging ❤️✨
Yes, invisible challenges are uniquely difficult, if not excruciating... What I love about your writing, and media, is how you're making the invisible, visible. And not just visible - felt, sensed, and full of creative juice. You make the invisible alive by making it personal. I write to my therapist between sessions, and I have often been inspired by your descriptive writing, and others' here, to make my own invisible struggles visible, and alive.
Such great writing Kimberly. So good to meet all the family and your disquiet makes it particularly real.
I just read something the other day on writing about "heroes" and how no one wants to read a redemption arc without the "messy middle"—the disquiet, the ache, the terror. My messy middle seems more like a messy beginning, middle and end, but nevertheless, it's encouraging to hear that it makes all the moments of magic feel more real. xo
How lovely that writing skills are inherent, maybe even innate.
“Charles Phillip Brauer”
1949–1985
The inscription on the bench is so beautifully written. I think Charlie would have approved.
I’ve sat on a few ‘in memory of’ benches . Not because I needed a rest at that moment. It’s more a feeling, to seat yourself and have a look around. A path to a stranger who was so loved in life, someone cared enough to mark a favorite view, or even a place of comfort deep in a forest.
Now that I think on it, rather than a tomb stone in an abandoned cemetery, I love the idea of a bench, or even just a boulder. In my absolutely favorite place. And if someone were to write something beautiful, well then…
I love the idea of a bench too! I've always leaned toward cremation, no longer wanting to "exist" when I don't "exist." :) But a symbolic place of reflection and rest, with a companioned view, now that's pretty sweet. I have a friend who would like her ashes to be spread under an apple tree.... similarly, a place to sit and bite into the ruby red cycle of life.
It does feel a bit like being invited into this extended family with you, Kim. 🩷
I'm always flawed and buoyed by these chapters. "He never reached land again. Will I?" That contemplation landed like a blow. I'm always reminded, when I read your work, of how flimsy our understanding of time really is. How it exists in spirals, and loops, and has multiple directionalities and layers.
I love that Charlie shot his TV.
Haha! I do too! Never felt more proud to be his daughter when I learned that little fact. I just wish someone had recorded it, or he'd written a poem about it afterwards. :)
Your reflection here is... well... as usual, stops me in my tracks. You picked out the most central line to this entire chapter, it encompasses everything—not just the strange parallel of our physical experience and my own desperate relationship to it, but the mysterious looping of time, how one life can cease to exist, but its patterns still lay themselves upon another, bending, spiraling, dizzying...
That intellect of yours... wow.
That conveyance of yours, m’dear...
I can't comprehend what it's like for you to lay bare these thoughts and feelings, all so intimate and internal and raw, but I want you to know that this piece in particular is profound. Your writing is staggeringly moving, so intricate and poetic and graceful. I'm in awe, Kimberly. (I'm writing this part way through reading, because I simply had to stop to say this in case I couldn't capture what I was thinking as the words swirled from the page.)
Just when imposters syndrome is puffing up her feathers and asserting herself in my psyche, your words land, soften, encourage. Thank you thank you Nathan. I have much to learn but am beyond delighted to hear that the mess of me, somehow spirals into coherence.
I am trying to imagine how I would feel, I with little family left who care about my own small entourage, to suddenly be faced with so much love?
Would it even be possible to correlate that which has been missing for so long? I don’t know? Truly…
But somehow even with your world undulating so uncontrollably and inexplicably beneath you, unable to process the minutiae of emotional exchange, you arrange yourself, your heart in just the right way not only to accept their obvious love, their kind, open arms but you wrap all the gifts of new found family in your own arms with graceful elegance… once again I am in awe of this resilient, attentive you dear Kimberly…
The photo of you on Charlie’s memorial bench, the strain of the days with new family, your strength and the weight of emotion are not hidden, perhaps a moment too special for someone like me to even understand but the image speaks volumes nonetheless. 🤍x
I think you give me more credit than deserved. :) Or at least, little "me" or egoic "me." Maybe when life is all-too-overwhelming, we split into two, one part moves through the world, doing all the motions like a puppet, while another, more infinite and gossamer, pulls the strings, inviting surrender and grace. Hey, I like this idea!
Love you dear Susie. And love that spring is slowly returning for you on the petals of snowbells.
I might actually adopt that idea too… my husband thinks I’m already there, although he has a somewhat less eloquent way of describing it! 😂😘
truly rremarkable
Thank you sir Appleton. ;)
It’s so lovely when you etch into the cow hide. A beautiful moment of joining the family and connecting with your dad. Wonderful writing as always, Kimberly. :)
What a moment indeed! I was stunned that so soon, they invited Dave and I into their permanent emblem of family.
Your storytelling of this meeting is so very moving, Kimberly. I cannot imagine what this experience must have been like for you all—dizzying. And what pure expressions of love from and between every one of you. It’s extraordinary.
I am a living, breathing example of thought and emotion manifesting into matter. ;) We could argue chicken or egg, which came first, but in my case, I feel quite certain that the unsteadiness began with the dizzying collision of new information. Eventually, the reorganizing identity needed to find embodiment so integration could happen on all levels. Thank you for offering your presence here—you hold my story with great tenderness, like a stunned bird recovering from impact in your warm hands.
You are very much your father's daughter, Kimberly. This chapter was absolutely gorgeous (they all are!!!)
"in his own handwriting, scribed no less than thirty-five years ago. I touch it and try to wrinkle time—his hand and mine momentarily one." Lots of wet stuff in my eyes with that line. How wonderful to have Charlie's art and energy all around. Music, writing, photos, stories. Little gifts left behind for you to unwrap. The photos are such a wonderful addition. Thank you for sharing them with us. You and your family are gorgeous and radiate the most feel good energy.
Makes me think of something you wrote a while ago Jenovia as you pored through old boxes of photos, relics, treasured scraps of connection from your past. Objects hold vibrations and you're right, it has been such a gift to be able to surround myself with some of Charlie's vibration... through song, poetry, word, but also random bits of paper one wouldn't assign any meaning to, but for some reason, he held on. And now, I get to too. :) Thank you sister for your lasting and so very loving presence here.
There is so much tenderness in the way you capture moments and experiences, the love, the pain, the connection. I find myself savouring each line and phrases, both for your writing and your beautiful soul.
Awww Mya, I wish I could reach my arms through this screen right now and hug you. Thank you for savoring with me. I labor over each sentence, scrunching my eyes, feeling into my toes, trying to find the words that exactly describe what I'm trying to say. It's arduous but rewarding, especially when I hear it landing in beautiful soul's like you.